


Keeping Faith

by Peacockery



Category: Cuphead (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Conflict, Drama, Established Relationship, Fluff, Friendship, Gambling, Happy Ending, Healthy Relationships, Heartwarming, Heartwrenching, M/M, Miscommunication, Misunderstandings, One Big Happy Family, Romance, Strained Friendships, Strained Relationships, character origins, pre-game
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-17
Updated: 2018-11-06
Packaged: 2019-06-11 19:53:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 14,182
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15323058
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Peacockery/pseuds/Peacockery
Summary: Impressions are often wonderfully wrong. Djimmi hopes it is so when he catches his partner in a painfully compromising meeting with a certain Baroness.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I am on a bit of a personal break right now due to some life events, but this idea has been on the backburner for awhile. I consider this the alternate universe counterpart to Sweet Affairs, for my readers who enjoy Magic Carnival. :)
> 
> This story is in a prequel setting, taking place around 20 years before the events of Cuphead. As such, the bosses mentioned will be presented in their earlier days before, during and after the signing of their contracts.

Djimmi puffed out a heart-shaped plume from his pipe as he watched the sunset along the docks.

Ever since the cup boys did the unthinkable and saved the Isles from sin, life had never been better. The genie was truly a free spirit now, and no contract could hold any fine print otherwise. The sun felt warmer, the winds were softer...he almost felt like he was back home again.

The carnival around him was a symphony of harmony that even he couldn’t conjure. That was all Beppi’s doing. Behind him, Djimmi could hear the blissful puffs of belting music coming from the pipes of calliopes preaching their innocent hymns, all in the spirit of merriment and childlike wonder. It was the lifeblood of the circus, and the heartbeat of its master. Interlaced among the notes were the beats of laughter, of machines whirring back to routines, of grills hissing and ice clinking in soda glasses. He could smell the oil and sugar dancing above sunburned grasses and light tangs of sweat under the cloudless skies.

None if it compared to a treasure he hoarded in silent greed for himself, and that was the moment he could feel a puffy sleeve looping around his arm.

Djimmi’s smile widened as he glanced down to see a colorful face and brilliant grin staring back up at him. Beppi was eyeing the rope that the genie had been leaning on, but instead chose to lift up the meaty limb he had hooked himself around to weasel his way under it. A comment came his way regarding the state of the fairgrounds but it fell on deaf ears while he wiggled and squirmed to get comfortable; Djimmi was so muscular that only a colorful frill was able to pop out and join its owner’s head in the squeeze. 

The carnival was nice, but being able to spend it with this big lug had made it all better.

He squinted out at the horizon, trying to figure out just what the genie had found so interesting over the playground behind him. It was the same boring trees and bridges that the clown saw all the time from across the way, and he squinted his exaggerated brows further to see if he was missing anything else. The warm hold around him tightened softly in a fond squeeze. Djimmi’s throaty laughter only riled him up further.

Together they watched the forest swaying under the evening breeze while Djimmi relented his hold just enough to accept soft gloved fingers lacing with his own. 

They had been friends for years, although the beginnings had been rough and full of animosity. It was only after they had signed their contracts and calm down around one another as rivaling entertainers did things start to change. Under the Devil’s promises of freedom and a fantasy world at one’s control, they began to live comfortably despite the looming doom attached to their souls. There was always a fine print: freedom in exchange for eternal servitude should death come to the genie, and powers of creation to chase childish dreams in exchange for Beppi’s old identity; he had once been quite a high roller and the son of a salesman. The Devil only cared for more gold and sweet humility in the end. But, the days were different now. Despite the burning of the contracts, the Devil had honored to let his debtors keep what they had achieved. Djimmi was wonderfully, truly free. Beppi finally had the home he always wanted.

The days were so much happier now.

Djimmi stroked his thumb over the top of his clown’s hand, finding comfort in the soft felt of the glove. One could sweep a palm over a rabbit’s fur and have it end up in a fit of jealousy, that’s how soft glove was against his skin. He looked down at his beloved, feeling the ancient abyss of his heart compress itself like a hot little rock within his core. Watching Beppi in his fits of innocence was always a treat in and of itself.

Ultimately, the clown gave up on watching trees and choppy waves. He firmly rubbed his cheek against his love’s broad vest, huffing quietly to himself over how boring the old codger was. It earned a warm hum that he grinned at. 

Naturally, Djimmi ended up carrying him in his arms when they both turned to make their way back. Beppi could never turn down the offer to float around the place.

Djimmi didn’t mind it at all. He had long embraced the strange quirks that offset the clown’s age. Beppi had been grey and miserable once, all those years ago. Even if he had to sign away himself to the Devil, becoming a magical clown had been the greatest decision of his life. For that, seeing a longtime friend finally happy was more than enough to the genie. He kept a silent vow to himself, to never see another frown on the clown’s face. So, he held Beppi close, first in a bridal hold but accepting an over-the-shoulder grip as if he were being climbed on by an eager kitten. The fairgoers didn’t bat an eye; this was standard fare here.

He followed a practiced path by now, lazily beelining to the same ride Beppi normally hated on his own but held one exception for: once upon a time, they held many emotional confessions up at the very top of the ferris wheel. It was where Djimmi had first learned of Beppi’s lingering fears of hecklers and naysayers. It was where he had talked to himself out loud over the mysticism of love and all of its colors. He recalled that moment of white hot fear that burned at his stomach one night, that one frightening night when he realized the love he was describing had long overstepped the friendly type. So far above the ground, only the clouds could hear them.

But on the humble earth in the present moment, Djimmi no longer was shy in expressing his outward affections. Beppi slipped off of him with effortless poise to await the same gesture Djimmi always took to in opening the carriage door for him. The same flourished sweeps with the same charming grin. The clown always batted his painted lashes and tugged at the hips of his suit to don a playful curtsy before he hopped on in. With the two of them in one space, Djimmi always dominated his portion and more every time he slipped in. Even in their humble beginnings, Beppi felt no offense to it; during the first time, he had made great effort in elbowing just to be a little pill about it. On nights like tonight, he would be offended if he sat unobstructed.

Slowly, the attraction begin to lift. It was nothing compared to the fluttering sentiments shared in such a cramped space. The tip of the arc became the place where they had shared moments of tenderness and raw emotion, saying things that flushed the cheeks and uprooted old memories that time stubbornly clung to. It soon became a nightly ritual, and Djimmi swore that every twilight ride they took, Beppi started to nestle a little bit closer. He had been afraid at first, of looping his arm around the clown. Now, it was an expected gesture. On a night like tonight, he didn’t even have to make the effort anymore in reaching first. 

The carriage always halted at the top once three rotations were made, and by that time Beppi’s hands couldn’t keep themselves humble. Dutifully, he gave in to petting the same spot of the genie’s thick chest, keeping his other hand busy in tugging at his frill. He purred and shivered under the pleasant lull of listening to that thumping noise against his ear. 

Sometimes, there were no invested talks. This far into their relationship, there were nights when there simply wasn’t anything that needed to be said. Beppi was most fond of those opportunities. Talking was nice, but it was an investment. Emotions and stories and confessions and musings...he hadn’t really thought too deeply about his own life ever since he had signed his contract. It was an odd feeling, as if he swore he used to remember so much more about himself at one point. Seeing the bizarre heaviness in Djimmi’s gaze during those moments was even more conflicting. But, he listened to whatever was pulling at the heart of his big guy since it was clear that the sessions made the genie happy. Sometimes he talked about whatever jokes were brewing in his head, or whatever silly ideas he had. Back in their younger days, all there had been was so much talking of things, of dreams and worries and strange memories he couldn’t quite pinpoint anymore...nowadays, just snuggling up and watching the stars made for new topics.

Sometimes they would make up stories, based on what shapes they saw in Hilda’s stars. On rare occasions, Grim would set up firework displays that lit up the sky and rile up the clown. Djimmi was quite fond of watching sleepy clouds drifting around a grinning moon. Some nights they would kiss, but it wasn’t a mandatory thing. There was plenty of hugs, warm squeezes and humble chuckling between them to make up for it. Every turn on the wheel always seemed to spark up something new and yet so familiar, and it was a routine worth looking forward to.

By the end of the first rotation, Beppi was almost in his lap. Any other man had the right to tense and fuss under the sudden pressure, but Djimmi was used to it. Intimacy among them was more on the virgin side of things, untainted by the sins which threatened their souls. Beppi felt safe in his lap. Sometimes he perched on a knee while imitating a cowboy, while other moments set up for a more endearing snuggle where he clung to the genie’s vest. The warmth and protection from the large body did it for him, drawing him away from the maddened energy which kept him so restless. It was the silent pact between them- a step back into the olden days before devils.

When the second rotation reached the top, Djimmi was petting along the back of the puffy suit, allowing his fingers to drag around the bumps aligning the spine beneath. Beppi had his face buried into the genie’s neck, having grown bored of watching the stars tonight. Between them, there was a dancing of hearts exchanging the same giddy thumps. It was moments like this where Djimmi would valiantly sell his soul again, if it meant many more nights like this. 

After the third rotation arced, the clown was fast asleep within the warm embrace. It was a rare occasion; there were other nights for ferris rides. Carefully, silently, Djimmi nudged his way from out of the carriage and back onto the platform. A few late night fairgoers greeted him politely as they waited for free carriages; an older woman and her husband in their Sunday best had leaned in on their canes to inspect the sleeping clown in his arms. They both nodded at the sweet sight, and bestowed the genie the esteemed title of being a good boy for his efforts. Djimmi mulled over the thought with a dreamy smile as he took Beppi back to his private tent. A quick glance down to see the clown, nestled up like a little kitten on his back...that title was well deserved elsewhere.

Beppi made his home in one of the larger tents near the back end of the fairgrounds, but Djimmi had long moved in too. He still had his iconic pyramid on the northeastern side, but it became a tomb after so many years alone. The canopic cats and toothy scimitars could wait patiently for him. For now, he peeled back the heavy flap of the tent, smiling at charming quarters within. Boxes of gags and props aligned the perimeter as they always had, as if their bulk alone were responsible for keeping the structure upright. A humble wardrobe in the right corner, a table full of cards and dishes in the center, flickering beneath a hanging bulb that really should be changed...Djimmi often took to walking at this point, even if it was awkward enough on his strange footwear. He carefully stepped around scattered horns and stuffed animals, slinking his way over to the left side. The humble iron bed frame whined beneath his weight as he settled upon the edge, and he sank deeper into the thick patchwork quilt in which Beppi had held onto for years. The genie suspected it had been a family inheritance of sorts.

He slowly lowered himself onto his back, taking up most of the bed space with little effort on his part. That had been a matter resolved early on; Beppi greatly enjoyed sleeping on top of him in the strangest positions. Tonight, he slapped away his partner’s doting hands to wiggle onto his stomach, splaying sideways onto Djimmi as if he were merely a sash for the magician to wear. The gesture brought out a soft rumble of amusement and a light pat on his rump for his troubles.

Trying to move the clown whenever he slept was always an endeavor. Djimmi would have more luck wrestling a mongoose out of a cobra’s basket than try to contend with the hidden strength in Beppi’s limbs. He watched the jester doze in his catlike sprawl, his own eyes growing hazy as the beginnings of sleep began to tempt him as well. Resting a large hand on the small of Beppi’s back, Djimmi hummed peacefully as he too drifted into a pleasant slumber.

\---

Sleep never lasted long. For as long lived as he was, it was merely a way to pass the time. Genies didn’t require it, but allowing himself to close his eyes and relax a few hours alongside another...there was nothing else that could describe the feeling. Feeling the warmth of body heat beneath soft, thick blankets, listening to every small exhale and occasional grunt...smelling the soft pangs of mortal skin and lingering reminders of the circus around them...it was a welcomed change to routine. He’d burn his turban if it meant no longer sitting among dusty tombs and cold brass.

So, sleep for Djimmi was more like simply closing his eyes and entering a state of deep meditation, lost in thought and yet still very much aware of the surrounding space. He could hear the winds prodding at the rigging above and around them. He could feel every twitch from the sleeping clown atop his belly; sometimes the prickling chill of drool would jolt him out of his trance whenever it touched his skin. Occasionally, Djimmi found enjoyment in silencing the hush of the universe’s whispers to open an eye and simply observe what position Beppi had restlessly changed to during his nightly sleeping fits; the clown slept as boisterously as he acted when awake. Tonight the first thing Djimmi registered was the striking lack of darkness gracing his vision. Embarrassed, he snapped his fingers to turn off the hanging light he had forgotten to snuff earlier. Then his gaze shifted down to regard the clown properly. Of course Beppi had moved; he always did. The clown had pushed himself off of the genie’s abs, nudged a brawny arm aside and curled up between it and his side without somehow rousing him too much. 

Perhaps Djimmi wasn’t as alert as he gave himself credit for...he could have his variant nights too.

The genie groggily parted his arm to allow his companion to slip further down onto the bed, feeling his smile stretch to an infatuated one as Beppi tucked in his arms like a puppy on his back. His brows were scrunched close as he succumbed to an intense dream, poking his tongue out when his head eventually lolled back once everything settled. It was one of the most precious displays Djimmi had ever seen. He couldn’t disturb it.

This was his life now, stuck under his sweetheart. What could he ever do?

Not a dang thing. And he loved it.

He stared up at the ceiling, unable to make out any flushes of light. They wouldn’t seep through for another few hours at least, judging by the relative peace of the world outside. 

Beppi felt no fear in having his carnival run as he slept. The guests by now knew full well of the chaotic nature of its host should anything go astray. Djimmi could hear the occasional crashing of the roller coaster slamming down onto its bottom rails, and of lingering music haunting the atmosphere. Laughter danced around in distant areas like ghosts in the night. All in all, it was strangely peaceful to listen to. 

He lay there like that until the dawn slowly began to brighten the colors of the tent’s canvas. That was always the cue he had been waiting for.

Beppi always had the same reaction when he awoke in the mornings, and that was a grumbling, bleary eyed state of confusion as to how in the world he had woke up with 90% more of the bed again. It was always the same adorable display, blinking around in frazzled confusion while flinging pillows and blankets in every direction until he locked onto the genie at the table and the world would gain order again.

Like clockwork, Djimmi would sit there twiddling his thumbs while grinning innocently behind a welcoming display of dishes loaded with different edibles: cups of juice, a mug of chocolate milk, cut fruit and scrambled eggs, finely cut bacon (with all the fat bits Beppi hated cut off), and of course, the crowning jewel before it all. He conjured everything with a flick of the wrist but always employed painstaking care in creating the pancakes himself, always displayed with the face of clowns with whipped cream hair and a cherry nose. Between the two of them, this setup should have gone cold after so many years together. But, it was worth keeping the spark alive pretending that it was. So, he always awaited the same mock surprise while preparing his feasts, and Beppi kept amping up the sweet impression of feeling so alone without his big guy around.

For a being so much smaller than he, Beppi could guzzle all of his giant breakfast down. How in the world he accomplished a feat fit for two people, Djimmi would never know. But he knew where that cute little belly pudge was, underneath all that fluff and bounciness. He’d listen to the sloppy clinking of cutlery against china and the famished gulps while he focused on reading recent affairs in the daily paper. Djimmi never prepared for himself, but he always picked off the leftovers once his clown was fully charged. Like right now.

He nibbled on the remaining strips of bacon when the clown gave him a purring hug and a wave goodbye as he zipped out of the tent to greet the new day. The genie finished the last of the eggs while swirling around the remains of syrup and cream with a fork. A dreamy smile returned to his face; he was so fortunate. 

Work always resumed like normal after every breakfast. Beppi would bounce around the entirety of the grounds to maintain order and have his fun, while Djimmi always floated back to his iconic tent. Sometimes guests stopped him in the square to perform sword juggling or magic tricks out of his turban, but not today. The morning sun was a familiar heat that he welcomed, but he had noticed its effects on the fairgoers. They lingered in the shade and huddled around drink carts. Perhaps this was a day where he’d open all of the flaps to his tent.

As he mulled over what methods of fortune telling he’d use today, the genie’s gaze wandered to the looming mountain of a cupcake in the far northern end. He stopped, crossed his arms and cocked his head with a soft hum.

Sugarland was an eden for the children of the carnival, but it was a treat in itself if its owner was out to play. Bon Bon lived in a bizarre irony of having so sour a temperament in comparison to her theme. Her candied grounds were always open to guests, and yet she often hid in the sealed darkness of her sentient castle like a spider in the depths of her web. As long as grubby hands stayed humble and tones polite, she was as sweet as sugar to those who paid worship to her art. Elsewhere, her reputation succeeded her when it came to the legendary feud she held against the clown.

Djimmi always remained the mediator when the two butted heads, fighting more like ornery siblings than anything deeply hateful. Beppi was a good stress relief for her: he was bouncy and took hits with infinite optimism whenever she became too moody. In return...well, the genie couldn’t say. There was just something about her that Beppi enjoyed being around. And then it clicked one night, strolling around the corner to catch them at a soda bar near the carousel, watching her slumped over on pressed elbows as she nursed a frothing soda while Beppi rubbed at her back. She must have been saying things, heavy and mournful things from the way her eyes glittered under the shadows of her hanging head. Beppi enjoyed being around her because he simply couldn’t be at peace with himself if he couldn’t help people. He was a good clown.

Djimmi hummed to himself, nodding as he smiled at the massive cupcake that provided entry to the Sugarland grounds. Maybe tonight, he’d pay her a visit too. Even the fiery Baroness cooled at the invitation for a divination; he always found ways to tease out that innocent child still within her soul whenever the tarots or crystal ball came out. 

He resumed his journey to his base, waving a hand to open it with magic before he settled in. There was always some rearranging before he kept his entryway open to the public- a magician prided himself on his setup. The fortune table always went towards the front, flanked by velvety cushions and open space in a clean radius for any seekers wishing to flood inside. He’d fluff his turban, snap his fingers to burn the nearby incense jars and then cross his arms while assuming a mystical gaze of far off gazing.

In time, the curious came. They always did. He had been performing magic tricks and fancy scrying for years now, and yet the wonder never ceased. First it was always one brave soul who wandered the farthest from the herd, knowing what was to come and yet forever giddy. Djimmi had long learned of the various faces of the isles, and every visitor had become a dear old friend.

He couldn’t blame the public for being wary at first. There were the first timers to the mysteries of mysticism, and then there were the die hard regulars who always came for a fix. Every visit yielded different results and for it Djimmi had worn a coat of many colors. Dancing his fingers among the toys of destiny, he had relayed fortunes of great promise and tipped the scales to unfortunate revelations; some fortunes were a little too honest. He had become a shoulder masseuse, a tea maker, counsel, motivational speaker and oddly enough, on one occasion an officiant to a couple who found out in a ball reading that they were star crossed lovers. That had been a day that had lingered in the back of his mind for a long, long time. That sappy, boyish, intensely human desire to find a soul of the same fire to bond with until time snuffed everything. 

He twiddled his thumbs while lost in a humble fantasy. Of course, he had let those fuzzy thoughts wander towards a very specific source for the longest time. They saturated into everything he thought about when it came to life with Beppi, from the clown’s unrelenting optimism to his laugh that dripped sunshine- it warmed Djimmi’s cheeks and brightened his days. 

Eventually, the first guest came. She had been a small girl who had been curious about his exotic looks, the mass of scrolls and burning incense surrounding him. She hugged a green stuffed penguin close to her as she sat down with a bounce to follow in her auburn curls. The genie tipped his turban to her, giving a respectful nod to the distant watch of her parents. With a flourish of his fingers, he sprinkled invisible magic atop the crystal ball between them both.

Just like that, his day had flown fast. She had been the first of many, as was tradition. He told her a fortune of expecting a big bowl of ice cream at Bon Bon’s home, which satisfied the young child. Next came an old mountain goat seeking answers for the lack of gold in the mountain behind his shack, followed by throngs more of intrigued fairgoers. Once all the scrolls were packed, the incense snuffed and the fine silk cloth was draped over the crystal ball, Djimmi pulled everything back into the heart of his tent and began to feed his pets. Every scimitar received its daily snack of flint, while he lovingly stroked each head of his canopic cats as they ate dried pieces of fish. He even tossed some fresh bandages into his sarcophagus for the specters lurking inside.

His levitation was as serene as his thoughts, wandering between fantasies of another ferris ride and the impatient glee at holding his little one again. He floated along the pathways of the grounds, drifting between visitors and around the many stalls. Once he rounded the corner, Djimmi paused at a familiar sight.

It was the soda stand again, inhabited by the memory he had engraved in his mind. With their backs turned, Beppi and Bon Bon found a bittersweet union once again. She was slumped again with pride-be-damned defiance while he sat upright and proper, swinging his legs beneath his stool like a restless child. Smothered by the sounds of the carnival, their chatter was lost to Djimmi. But he could see glimpses of her hands as she no doubt was telling a vibrant tale, tapping along the counter top in gestures he could only deduce were in tune with a recounting of sorts. A two fingered walk, a circle made by a pointer finger, a bizarre wiggling of her middle and ring fingers...and Beppi nodded along as if it weren’t the most befuddling display. He remained stuck in that loop, reminding Djimmi of those little wooden animals that bobbed their heads when tapped. Bon Bon stared at the clown for a hard moment, before rapping her knuckles hard against the wood to bring him back. She sat up, seemingly agitated and puffing out her chest while making a fistbumping flexing gesture as she spoke more muted words. Beppi rubbed the back of his neck, uncertain. She took his hand, and placed something imaginary in it before giving it a squeeze. They both looked at one another, holding a gaze that was far too long for Djimmi’s liking. Slowly, her hand loosened on his, and she nodded her head while whispering something to him while placing her other hand on top of his spare. Beppi copied her, holding both of her hands as she smiled. He leaned in too, timid but composed about something. He whispered something back while a clumsy smile slipped up across his lips in a curl that almost looked tickled. It was very concerning.

He couldn’t make sense of it all. But he didn’t have to much longer, for when Bon Bon turned her head just enough, she froze while it snapped to meet the genie’s. She stiffened up like a cobra poised to strike, golden eyes wide and steeled. Beppi refused to follow her lead, instead biting his teeth and keeping his gaze diverted to the opposite direction. Djimmi felt an icy chill strangling his spine as he watched her.

Silently, Bon Bon tore her hands away from the clown’s, stood upright and silently left without finishing her soda. Beppi swallowed heavily, twitching his fingers as he felt his own muscles bristle in subconscious alertness as the genie approached. He snatched the soda before Djimmi could speak, polished it off with a large gulp, and grinned sheepishly at him before tipping his hat and slipping out of his stool long before Djimmi could even lace his arms around him.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Memory lanes can be the hardest ones to travel down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is part 1 of 2 of a fan request I received. You know who you are so far. :) I hope you like it!

Things had been different, once upon a time.

\-----

_He remembered that ill celebrated day where he won his freedom. The tight bonds that had burned into his wrists lifted the moment his master had lost his proud bet at the Devil’s poker table. Beneath the haze of smoke and bad decisions there was the sultan, sitting upon his dirty gold and puffing at exotic cigars rolled from ancient linens from forgotten lands. Surrounded by throngs of the curious damned did the royal wage his careless risks._

_From experience, Djimmi had witnessed what terrors the whispers of riches held upon simple mortals. Greed was just as twisted a disease as any other, fattening the pockets of the hungered while starving them of their spirits. It was the old god that clawed its way through the abyss of dreams and wrapped its claws around the what-ifs. His old master had been lost to the void for years; he had forced the genie into his lamp as punishment for his limitations._

_The first wish was to be the richest man in the lands...and then the Devil came to challenge it. The second wish demanded invulnerability to the demon, but Djimmi’s magic held limitations. Who was he to defy the power of a dark god? That defiance had certainly won over the interest of the monster in the room._

_The genie listened from where his prison sat on the table as the cards were peeled and slapped one by one into their arrangements. He could feel the heartbeats of over thirty souls fighting for purchase around the rim and yet none uttered a sound aside from the wristwork of the dealer. Djimmi likened the atmosphere to that of a funeral where the deceased hadn’t realized his final destination yet. Among the throng of heartbeats and heat, he shivered at the resonating cold pulse looming beside his master. He could smell the nauseating sweetness of wine choking under the toxic plume of the Devil’s cigar while he nursed his ambrosia and awaited his turn. The two sat side by side sat- the fool and his conscience._

_Despite the lid of his lamp being composed of thick gold, Djimmi had enchanted a swirling pool to stick along its roof to act as a makeshift mirror. He felt a chill clutching at his spine when he saw the Devil peering down at him from his seat. Currently so small, the djinn trembled like an ant beneath the sun’s glare. The demon effortlessly rolled his infernal smoke from one side of his maw to the other, zigzagging the trail of smog around his shaggy features as the casing danced along his yellow fangs. Beside him was the outline of the sultan’s cheek and flowing robe collar which glowed under the casino’s lighting due to the gold threadings._

_Any movements that the sultan performed were without any semblance of care for his crumbling world. He never brought his gaze to remark upon the lamp in the same fond manner as the Devil, and he refused to bend under any clear sign of duress as he played his rounds. The stack of chips on his end were growing tall enough for the genie to see, but so was the wilting subtlety in the smile of the casino owner. As the game persisted, the sultan placed his cards and marked his choices with all the coldness of a statue. Djimmi couldn’t see what his hands were doing, but he supposed they too were just as unreadable as his master’s face._

_It was when the rich lord discovered the upper hand of his opponent that he wisened up before he lost his plunder. At some point in the game his stack began to dwindle with each round, signaled with each hark of the dealer calling out the cards. Djimmi remembered placing his palm to a cheek while mourning his pride- it was all over him and him alone. His owner could have had everything if pride and greed hadn’t overlooked his sensibilities. He could have had immense power (within reason), throngs of women, crystalline pools and tigers on leashes...if those hadn’t been things the rich lord already had obtained for himself. No no, the only wishes he desired were for things Djimmi couldn’t reasonably grant, and for that he earned his exile on the table. He watched in growing discontent as the Devil’s plunder began to scale higher into the wafts of smoke until the Sultan’s next hand broke the calm in his sea of tranquility. The rich man stood up, snatched the rest of his chips and left the table. The act finally conjured up voices from the pits of the audience as the searing fingers of the Devil’s paw curled around the elegant slopes of the lamp. The infernal purred out a silky chuckle while taking his stand with the grand prize in hand. Djimmi only saw twisted smoke seeping in through the seal of the lid, stretching out its tendrils to choke out his scrying pool and plunge his prison into a suffocating darkness._

_Of course, he had been ready to fight the moment he had been summoned. The trek back to wherever the monster kept his lair had been an insufferable one full of dread and heavy tension. Djimmi had snapped his fingers a few times to conjure dancing sparks to light the void which he was choking in; they crackled and wheezed under the permeating thickness of the smog continually forcing itself into the small space. The pollution had been intentional: by the time the lid’s seal was pulled apart and he had shoved his way back into the endless fresh air, Djimmi was lurching from the spinning in his head._

_The Devil sat before him on his gilded throne, one furry leg crossed over the other as he steepled his fingers. The source of the smoke still lingered between his teeth, bobbing and twitching like the tail of a trapped animal inside the beast’s jaws. The room was sweltering, hotter than hell and infested with little prong-tailed vermin who swarmed their master like lap dogs. The genie knit his brows and crossed his arms, defiant. He was a child of the universe and abode by its laws. He refused to serve a demon’s foul regime._

_He floated above his lamp, stubborn and uncomfortable. The demon lazily curled his tail in a space behind the throne as he nursed on his cigar, occasionally tapping his finger pads together. Large vile eyes were peering at the stream of magic snaking up from the spout of the lamp: it was the tether that bound the genie to his prison in servitude. It coiled in the air like the spine of a swimming serpent, dipping through the hole between the genie’s crossed legs before it seeped up to lick the guards of his bracelets. To an ignorant mortal the arcing wisp looked like a mystical aura that orbited around the genie with all the elegance of a cloudy sash, but the Devil knew better. He raised a furry paw and crooked a taloned finger. Against his will, Djimmi felt the tether beginning to dig into him the longer he remained stationary. The genie bristled and resisted it for a moment longer before the swell became too painful._

_He didn’t want to believe that his ownership changed over a (no doubt rigged) poker game. It pained him to think his worth mattered so little over gold and pride. His eyes were set in a hostile glare as he approached, bottom lip pouting and muscles bulging in the tight cross he kept his arms. None of it phased his new master, who was still regarding the magic wafting up from the trinket to touch the genie. He plucked the cigar out from his lips and puffed out a perfect ring of smoke. The Devil then stared down the bullseye as he thought, extending his hand to coax the enchanted ribboning closer. Forbidden to strike his owners, Djimmi reluctantly kept his hands to himself as he watched tensely. Those menacing talons danced through the air beside the wispy rope, stroking along the underside which only caused the genie to shudder from the connection feedback. The bastard chuckle was starting to greatly unnerve him, but it was as silky as a bird’s song compared to the hooks sprouting out of the beast’s digits. The Devil had his gaze set in a dreamy smile as he explored the physics of the tether; his eyes flashed a dangerous glint as he snipped his fingers to sever it a moment later._

_Djimmi clutched his chest as a whirlwind of force shot through his chest like cannon fire. The world instantly spun through his eyes as the screams of a thousand spirits among the universe screeched into his ears. The breaking of the curse lingered only for a few seconds but he felt the most nauseating burst of motion sickness shake him for what seemed like eternity. Once the room slowly fell back to reality did he swallow heavily and put his gaze back upon the Devil, who had sunk back into his throne while regarding him in fond amusement._

_The genie was still palming at his heart. Confused, he tore his hands away. He asked what foul magic was just put upon him._

_The Devil quirked a brow as he snickered again._

_“Yer free.”_

_Djimmi’s knuckles cracked as he twitched them._

_When he couldn’t produce an intelligent answer, the demon chuffed and tapped his claws against a furry thigh._

_“I said,” He cocked a brow, “That yer free.” He wasn’t finished there, however, if the conjuring of a scroll by fire was anything to go by. The genie watched with furrowed brows before he shook his head._

_“The Great Djimmi is not following.” He looked down at his hovering form, taking note of the lack of wisping that had floated around him for so long. It was a synonymous thing with genies, those arcing cloudy wisps. Being without it now felt like he was falling out of the clouds and down towards an unfamiliar world. The Devil hardly reacted to his ignorance, busy scribbling something onto the floating scroll with a lit tip of a claw._

_“Listen, puff. What use could a guy like me have for wishes?” His teeth were a sickly off white as he bore them in a twisted grin. “I already am cozy here. That blowhard just needed to appreciate his toys a little bit more.”_

_Djimmi’s throat tightened. The demon continued._

_“I see ‘em all the time here. The big hotshots who think they own the world because of the clinkin’ in their pockets. Well, this is my playground, puff, and it’s attached to the school of Hard Knocks.” The Devil took a heavy drag of his cigar and had the gall to snuff it right there on his own tongue. The genie winced; that was one bad teacher._

_They looked at one another, and the Dark One’s smile shifted from smug to polite. He turned the scroll around and snapped his fingers to summon a smoldering quill._

_“I broke your chains, so yer free.” He emphasized a third time with a twinkle in his eye. “That overgrown brat ain’t gonna bother you anymore...or anyone else, heh.” He waited for Djimmi to make his inquiry, but continued with a light bristle when the scroll remained there in an innocent hover. “This here is a contract, for I still gotta eat.” He chuckled as Djimmi wondered how tasty souls were. “You go out there and live yer life. Make magic, bang women, whatever. But…” He tapped the signature mark with the tip of his claw, “I won you, so don’t go thinkin’ this is the last time we meet.”_

_The genie was biting his lip as a small sigh escaped him. He squinted while leaning in to try reading the smoking print on the scroll._

_“What are the terms?” He asked, to which the demon grinned again._

_“Why, glad you asked, pal.” The Devil uncrossed his legs to lean forward. He then tapped at a seemingly random patch of text. “I got no use for them wishes now, but nothing in this world is free. Go and live your life. But…” He raked his claw lightly down the parchment to a section of print so small that even Djimmi’s eyes couldn’t read them. “...upon your death I get to keep you for myself. And then I’ll get unlimited say.” He let go of the contract to sit back in his throne, rolling his wrists to crack them while shifting the cigar back to the other side of his leering jaws. Djimmi looked at him, stupefied._

_That was all?_

_He thought for a moment and ultimately let the chuckle brewing in his stomach leave without so much as a fight. It was tempting just to poof on out of this sweltering room of coals and brimstone, but he felt a suffocating heaviness in the air around him; it was either sign or sign. He winced at the heat of the quill’s stem as it touched his fingers, but he laced his name in the licks of flames upon the infernal paper. As the Devil pulled back the contract to read it, the genie had to cover his mouth to fight back a louder giggle._

_“A genie cannot die, I must say.” His humble nature betrayed him, but he was curious to see the demon realizing he had been had in this bizarre series of events. Something chilled in the pit of his being as the lord of sins chortled, rolled the scroll up and banished it to oblivion in a burst of flames._

_“Don’t they?” He purred sweetly, waving the magician out of his office._

_\-----_

_He felt incredibly out of place, carrying his own lamp while floating through the carcinogenic pits of the casino floor. It also came off as forbidden to even look at the table where his fate had been so casually gambled, so Djimmi resisted it. He gripped his once-prison with trembling fingers while his eyes cast a paranoid glance between the crew of high rollers and low ballers, but none seemed to care enough to look away from their games and drink to even bat an eyelash his way. For once in his great and enchanting life, Djimmi was invisible to the whims of the mortal world. He watched them all while following the maroon strip of carpet that snaked among the floor, watching zombified flicks of the wrists and eyes lost to the dead worlds of withering thought as the wheels were spun and cards shuffled. The music trilled its vivacious jazzy tunes over the walking dead, though the charming notes left an ill feeling in him. He had to get out of here._

_Casinos were mazes cleverly designed to keep the mice festering in the middle. The dim lighting and soft melodies instilled an artificial feeling of peace, like the warm connection to one’s bedroom or a favorite pub. The placement of the tables and signs were meant to innocently detour scrambling feet deeper into the pits of debt while subtly forming the most winding and asinine routes to an exit, established more clearly when one realized the lack of clocks and windows to remind that the outer world still existed. Djimmi knew better; he had centuries of observation under his belt. Weaving past the shufflers, it took him only a fortunate number of minutes to reach the grand double doors leading to the outer steps. He’d leave behind the eerily uplifting jazz and the chimes of payouts, but what he’d miss the least where the peppered ghosts of sobs sprinkled among the fray._

_The night air was heavenly, indeed. He sucked it in like a diver breaching the surface, thankful for its crisp presence among his quivering skin. A valley of sooty igneous walls awaited him, but he could see the end of the trail leading back out to the train station. The genie carefully tucked his lamp into a magical pocket within his vest and set out to his destination, eager to rejoin the world despite his born ability to zip through the fabrics reality. He craved the free man’s luxuries._

_As with all nights, a bustling crowd greeted his sights among the platforms. Among the sea of coats and hats were the hunchbacks of lost bets and the upright canter of those who truly believed they outsmarted the Devil of all beings. Greater among even them were the starry-eyed hopefuls pushing their way out of the cars to try their fortunes. Djimmi politely shifted to the side to let them pass, peering through the flock of luggage and bodies to find the ticket booths. A little push higher in his levitation granted him the location, easily._

_He must have been the only one in the newly formed line to be patiently waiting for his turn. Arms crossed and lost in thought, he fantasized of all the things he would do with his new life. Djimmi scrutinized one of the departure boards above the booth, for the first step above all others would be to find a better place to stay; his lamp was only comfortable for so long. He wordlessly mouthed the different destinations to find the one which sounded the sweetest in his mind as the traveler before him stumbled forward. The genie gently bumped into him in his distracted state and sputtered out of his stupor while clutching his turban out of reflex. He realized then that the trenchcoat before him had a young man wrapped up inside of it, who at that moment had been scrambling to make a mad grab for his fedora before the rose lady in front could dig her thorny heels into it. Djimmi bit his lip after babbling out a rumbling apology, coming face to face with a pair of anxious teal eyes as the young man turned to finally see him._

_The kid had a die for a head. He stumbled out of his crouch and back onto his feet, dusting off the dirtied headwear while nodding. Once his coat settled, it allowed Djimmi to see the homely suit stitched together with mismatched hemlines; it was the mark of a novice seamster. He also noticed the gloves on the youngster’s hands, off-white and frayed at the fingertips from prolonged use and cleaning. Overall, it was the look of a pauper trying to present as a prince. Considering the traveler looked no older than sixteen years of age, he must have been en route to an employment opportunity. Considering where they were standing, Djimmi hoped the kid hadn’t had his innocence tarnished by the casino. He hoped it was an accidental hop onto the wrong platform. He truly hoped._

_They shook hands to break the tension and struck up a soft chatter while the line slowly shortened ahead of him. The kid only introduced himself as “Dice”, which only deepened the genie’s concern deeper. Dice puffed out his chest and announced he had come to this forsaken part of the island to answer a job posting for a floor runner at the casino. In a way, Djimmi couldn’t fault him: The Devil certainly took impressive care of his domain and lackeys. Out of all the souls his ancient eyes spied, only the dealers and footmen looked genuinely gleeful in that wallowing atmosphere. The genie retorted that he had just been in there himself, out of a meeting with someone he knew._

_Dice looked at him with twinkling eyes, but a pout remained steadfast on his mouth. No matter how much he talked about his dreams of getting the job and how impressed the floor manager was with the interview, there was a shadow of sadness cast over his blocky features. He tried smiling again while announcing that he was being considered, but the diluted grey tones to his eyes deepened. The genie also smiled weakly, and wished him well._

_They spent the following time in silence while awaiting their turns. When he was third to the ticketer, Dice began fumbling obsessively with his pockets. Djimmi watched the same spots patted and groped, again and again to the point of watching those gloved hands shake. He asked if the lad had accidentally dropped his train fare too at one point. Dice’s back was once again facing him, but it tensed as his head slowly dipped back under hiding beneath the collar and his hat. Dice mumbled something about having maybe...possibly...accidentally wound up stopping by one of the craps tables before he left. “House Treat”, indeed._

_He might have been a free soul now, but Djimmi wasn’t above his wishmaking duties. By the time he was next at the booth, the kid had paid his way with plenty of gold to spare, courtesy of the generous soul who had run into him._

_One across another did they sit once having boarded, staring out at the mouth of the valley and the spotlights bursting from it’s depths like sunbeams directed towards the night sky. He listened to the soft clicking of coins as Dice counted his leftovers, and it was a sound that brought great satisfaction to the magic maker. He made a soft warning of the allure and grandeur to the place; he couldn’t see the nod, but he felt the fires of Dice’s resolve._

_“I won’t be tricked like that again. It’s just gonna be a job. No vices.” The lad promised._

_Somehow, those assuring words felt so haunting._

_\-----_

_It had been a few days of train hopping, boat tours and floating among the footpaths of the islands before Djimmi had picked a comfortable spot to settle. The bustling urban jungle along the southern edge of the third isle had been too loud and claustrophobic for his comforts, and the sheer sentience of everything along the great forests of the first had put him off enough to watch where he was resting. The second isle was composed of sections from its neighbors that provided a serene experience reminiscent to going on holiday; it was gentle nature living in harmony with humble settlements. The clouds seemed fluffier here, migrating far above a twinkling sapphire sea that was the crowning pinnacle of boardwalks which he was quickly finding great enthusiasm in._

_So, he explored._

_The locals were the typical bunches one would see in a seaside coast like this. Humble fellas in coveralls and ladies in summer dresses, barbershop poles come alive to sing their songs along the piers where children flew kites and made faces into the water beyond the rails. Djimmi saw street performers the further he traveled down the docks: a goat in a messy smock, painting colorful expressions on the pet rocks he was selling. A woman with a clarinet’s reed for a head, playing the violin to a flock of tourist pigeons. Among them Djimmi saw vending carts with vendors selling their wares; a spoon headed man selling large cones of ice cream stacked many layers high, and beside him was a cow selling gorgeous silverware and china sets to a curious crowd of humans clutching their coin purses._

_The genie paused when he saw a young woman pushing a colorful cart down the pier, coming his way. She was another human, perhaps no older than eighteen summers while wearing the warrior’s gaze of an Amazonian. Her fiery look of focus caught the ancient’s attention while she battled both the wind and the knobby planks of the docks; Djimmi noticed after a certain distance that she was also wearing some sizeable heels on her laced boots._

_He was a man of gentleman’s honor, and couldn’t bear to see her fight struggle. She stiffened up at his approach and stared at him with startled agitation when he tipped his turban to her and easily lifted the cart as if he were picking up a box of shoes. Djimmi noticed she had striking green eyes beneath the shadows of her long chocolate hair._

_He also saw that there were rows of fresh bon bons and other bite sized treats resting inside the belly of the mobile shop._

_The young woman didn’t so much as bid him a stiff hello as she made simple yet firm commands, pointing at a somewhat decent patch of pavement away from the old piers. She had her arms crossed as she watched him set down her cart but removed them to begin dusting off the baking apron covering her blue gown as if he had kicked up dirt in his move to assist; he caught the flush of embarrassment shining true on her cheeks once she noticed that his feet never once had touched the earth. She cleared her throat and glanced away, huffing quietly while announcing a simple thanks to him. It was clear that there was a spirit of brazen independence in her, desperate to carve her own way into the world by her own hands and no one else’s. It fascinated the genie, but he didn’t pry. It simply wasn’t often that he saw a lady as bold as she._

_He hummed pleasantly and sank into a polite bow once her curious gaze returned to him, making kind remarks on the state of her wares. Djimmi had no mortal need for food but the sight and smell of the colorful treats had awakened a peckish appetite within him. The bon bons inside were perfectly rounded and decorated in all manner of candied ribbons, fondants, frostings and crushed sugar in a festive little gathering upon their own tiny doilies. They sparkled like jewels beneath their glazed varnish, so elegant that he feared touching them. The longer he glanced boyishly among them, the more the world around him tuned out. His smile grew when the young woman’s hand dipped into one of the containers within the cart to retrieve one for him. Despite its rich chocolate shell, the painting spoke of rich cherry undertones and glaring white puffs of hardened meringue circling along its small top like a crown fit for a mouse. Djimmi’s eyes twinkled as he looked between it and her, noticing a surprising gentleness in her features._

_She had an almost outwardly sheepish look to her striking green eyes, but was presenting herself more as the tickled confectioner-in-the-making that she really wanted to be. Her words were simple yet had a strong sense of pride in them, speaking of the lessons she had been taking from her father. As Djimmi delicately took a bite, her smile widened at the sound of his teeth crushing through the hardened shell to taste the delights within._

_He noticed the name painted along the side of her cart as he listened to her plans of the future._

_“Baroness Bon Bons: A Royal Taste Beneath the Foil!”_

_The lass had a gift. He knew her words will one day lay great foundations._

_\-----_

_By the time the sleepy sun kissed the surface of the waves, Djimmi was convinced that this gentle isle would become his home. The taste of the bon bon still lingered in his memory as he sat upon a bench and stared out at the sorbet horizon and counted the tree tops in the neighboring isle. His lamp sat beside him on the slatted wood, feeling perhaps less of a prison and more of a familiar friend for the first time in centuries. His gaze lay dreaming and peaceful while the evening winds were carried in from the rolling waves to pat against his cheeks._

_At this time there were less children around, but those that remained started to linger in one particular spot near one of the carts. Djimmi turned his head at their laughter, taking notice of the growing numbers of couples holding hands and teenaged spirits rushing out to play in sweet evening rebellion. He counted the hats and veils while laying his eyes next on a throng of children, whom were giggling and shouting at one another in such a sweet innocence that the noise stood out the most in the small crowds. The genie always had a soft spot for them, as they held the most wonder in their hearts to see imagination come alive. Guided by their whimsy, he blindly reached for his lamp while pushing out of his seat._

_They were almost building a wall out of themselves: Some stood on boxes of stock for the stalls while others swarmed the benches in the vicinity. Parents stood among them like grey and tweed trees among a lively thicket, holding a few on their shoulders while everyone watched like a transfixed cult at something in the center. As he approached, Djimmi caught colorful spheres popping up into the air above their heads before falling back into the center of the gathering. With his ability of defy gravity, it was effortless for the genie to simply hover a bit higher to glimpse into the fray._

_There was a young man seated in the direct center of the onlookers, resting upon a steamer trunk with his legs crossed. He had curly hair as red as a ruby, and was wearing a blue suit that appeared to be one size too big for him as it shivered in the gentle winds, but he didn’t seem to pay it any mind. He had a pronounced nose which pointed up to the sky with his gaze, and his tongue was trapped between a corner of his teeth while he kept his uttermost focus on juggling the bright fabric balls in his possession. Djimmi cocked his head lightly, finding the display to be quite curious. The lad looked to be of the business sort, but he wasn’t one to make assumptions. The magician crossed his crimson arms while watching silently where he floated.  
A child’s innocence was something to be marveled at. He could tell from the tired expressions of the adults that the act itself wasn’t too impressive, but the little ones giggled at the faces the man was making and of the little tricks he employed. He spun the spheres with fierce flicks of his wrists and managed to have two collide and repel back into his hands while the remaining pair shot high above his head. Djimmi noticed a matching blue hat, sat upright upon its crown to present itself like a makeshift basket for what he pondered must have been for the grand finale. A curious part of him wanted to witness it._

_It was with great misfortune that his own presence was enough to prevent it. A spoon-headed child tore his attention away from the display to look up at the strange red mass suddenly in his peripherals. He froze up in awe at the sight of the ancient being and squeaked out a harken for the others to look. Within seconds a parade of eyes were peering at him curiously; even the adults stared with jaws agape._

_Djimmi froze, chuckling anxiously. He brought up a hand in awkward greeting. These isles were a strange place. Riddled with dragons, citizens with objects for heads, animals that wore clothing and sought educations...and yet folks were still utterly fascinated with the newest things. They all looked at him like the exotic wonder that he was and began to slowly leave their spots to approach him. The smallest of children were the fastest, racing each other to investigate how he was floating without any strings or propellers. The older ones began to ask him questions on what he was, from a strange sunburnt tourist to a magician in regards to his fancy hat and shiny cuffs. The parents, hilariously enough, were the ones with the most sense and yet the most timidness, standing at the back while keeping sharp gazes on their wards. Djimmi raised his hands as if he were dealing with blows, trying to gain some space amidst the sudden chaos. He introduced himself humbly but with great pride in his words, flicking at the plumped feather on his hat to keep it out of his eyes when giving a dainty nod to his new throng of fans. With a snap of his fingers, he conjured up a bird made of smoke to rest in his hand, smiling at the gasps and squeaks of amazement._

_The apparition hopped along his fingers for only the briefest moments before being snuffed by the winds, but that was fine by him. He wasn’t here to steal the thunder from another entertainer. The genie cleared his throat and gesture back to the man that they had all gathered to see, expecting a relieved smile from the young man. Djimmi’s own fell quickly when he met gazes with the lad in the ill fitted suit._

_The kid must have been around the same age as the candy girl, so young in his features and yet so worn down by the working world. He stood there like a weather beaten statue, encircled by the abandoned fabric balls he had been juggling with earlier to just stare at the magician with a look of almost scandalized disbelief. Djimmi’s back stiffened while forcing himself to drown out the eyes and chatter still invading his senses. For a brief moment, he stood with the man in a tiny spot of a silent universe. He could almost begin hearing the thrumming of that mortal heart thundering like an angered mustang. The genie reached a hand out, slowed by shame as he watched the young man quickly dip to scrape the spheres off of the ground in shame and tugged at his steamer trunk without even stopping to remember his forgotten hat still laying there on the ground. Almost in gleeful mockery, the crowd hardly seemed to notice that he had left, still abuzz with excitement over the foreign magic man and his conjuring magic. Djimmi had no choice but to watch him go._

_\-----_

_The first impression of this place had danced between charming and overwhelming, but ultimately he decided to set up shop near the boardwalk. After a wave of his hands and a bit of arcane chanting, he had conjured and erected a sizeable white tent in the style of a pyramid. Djimmi admired his handiwork with somber thought while onlookers paused to oggle. In years to come it will grow full of his magic tomes and scrying equipment, and of knick-knacks he’d bring back through time from all the dimensions and eras he had once been a part of. For now...it would be home as he would have it, as a free man._

_He spent his first night within it in sleepless musing, thinking of the young man and his crowd of fans. He thought of the devil and the betrayal of the sultan, and of the lad with a die head dreaming of better dreams. Perhaps he could go for another bon bon soon too...the genie tapped his fingers against his belly as he rested upon a cloud being produced from his lamp, and sighed as his troubles began to come back._

_Infinity was a long time, but even magic could die. He wondered when that day would come, where he’d have to give up sapphire skies for sulfur and suffocation. He sighed softly and closed his eyes. When morning came, he felt no less bothered by his newly found freedom._

_He peeled back the entrance flap to allow the dawn’s rays to rush in. Djimmi squinted through the blinding rays, surprised to already see ladies and gents and dogs and all sorts of strange and classy folk strolling about. A nearby trio of voices cooed into the morning dew as three gentlemen robins in matching barbershop regalia sang to all of their blessed fortunes. Djimmi slowly pulled himself out of the structure and crossed his arms, taking a deep breath of the crisp salty air. It alone could pull most men out of their sleepy stupors. He conjured up a cup of dark tea while taking in the sights, but moreso allocating most of his attention towards the singing._

_Djimmi watched the colorful citizens and tourists alike as they milled about. He noticed the same young lady with the fiery determination setting up her bon bon cart near one of the piers. He smiled softly at the group of kitten and puppy children weaving out a game of tag through the flocks of grown ups...he perked up at a raspy barking towards his left. The genie saw a frazzled old human in a grey suit, straining with all his might to drag a large steamer trunk on wheels. He mumbled and huffed about his affairs to seemingly nobody in particular, until he turned his head to bark behind him. Out from a throng of dock-walkers came who else but the same young lad Djimmi had seen yesterday, tugging at his own case while struggling to keep up. The young man was struggling not just in his labors but in spirit, as he let his brows hang as heavy as his frown while he listened to the ramblings of his senior. His eyes remained mostly on the ground, but they glanced up at one point to look to his right. Djimmi stiffened up at the same time the lad did, staring at each other the same way a gunslinger would a wiley bandit...and he was the bandit._

_The young man with bright red hair stared at him good and hard for a moment, puffed up as if he couldn’t decide on whether to fight or remain in shock. Another bellow from the older man decided for him, and he reluctantly kept following while holding his glare as long as he could. Djimmi’s frown deepened as he watched the kid’s head drop in defeat while the endless criticisms continued. He didn’t have it in him to just let that continue._

_Silently, he followed behind the pair. The boss was worn ragged by the world, grey in the hair that was starting to fall into his face the longer he struggled to drag the trunk behind him. His shoes were gleaming under the morning sun but bore obvious scuff marks from years of hard labor. His face, whenever it glanced back, bore a mask of wrinkles and tiredness upon them. His hunched posture persisted even when he paused to catch his breath, suggesting a lifetime of carving trails among the island networks. He was a man of hard work and determination, harsh as it manifested beyond his lips._

_The lad before him must have been a son or apprentice, bearing the same burdens with an even greater reluctance. He paused whenever the elder did, keeping his head low and his brows tight. Djimmi pitied him. At his age, he could be out at a fine university, earning a fine education to shape the world the way he dreamed of it being. If yesterday was any indication, then the young man was enjoying himself well enough alone in his own little universe. The genie kept a respectable distance, but didn’t stop following until he witnessed the duo coming to what might have been their first stop of the day._

_Lining along the boardwalks were a cozy number of shops and services, but those who could afford the luxury also took residence in pastel painted townhomes. The elder set down his trunk with a relieved sigh, slowly crouching down to unhook the latches. Once the lid was peeled back, he began to prop up stands and turn a series of bottles that were now rising into view. A salesman, he was. A soft hum escaped his cracked old throat as he straightened back up and smoothed his hair. The young man reluctantly moved his own steamer a short distance away and performed the same actions while keeping his gaze averted._

_“This’ll be the day, Red.” The salesman grunted with a wry smile. He shook a finger at the younger while stepping forward to gussy up in the reflection of a window. “The day you will earn your keep,” He was tugging on his lapels, “...bring good to our family name,” he leaned in to smudge at an eyebrow, “...and make something of yourself.”_

_“Yeah, pop…” Came the quiet reply. Red. The kid’s name was Red. Glancing back at his hair, Djimmi couldn’t deduce if the name was appropriate or a mockery. Red had his hands stuffed in his pockets, back to the genie (thankfully) to glance back at the pier. He seemed to be watching the pretty young lady with the bon bon cart. It was in that moment that the world must have slowed in the kid’s vision, no doubt playing a sweet serenade in his mind as the genie had no choice but to watch the old man turn, look offended and stomp over to slam shut the lid of his son’s trunk._

_“You **will** get your head out of the clouds, boy.” The old salesman snarled as his ward jumped. “Don’t prove your mother right. **I** know what’s best for you. **YOU** aren’t going to spend your days frolicking out there with the sheep when you **will** be a lion seizing the pickings.” Red was trembling, but said nothing. His father stood back and fixed his lapels again. “You don’t see everything I am doing for you because you are spoiled and lazy. Today you are going to show me you have your script together because by god-”_

_“Ok! Ok….ok…” Red interjected as he scrambled to pick up his trunk and bring it closer. He avoided the old man’s gaze while reopening his case and fumbled to set everything back in order._

_“What do you say first after you knock on their door?” His father asked with crossed arms. Red didn’t bother pulling himself out of his scrambling to answer._

_“I say…”Good day, sir/ma’am” and then I launch into anecdotes about the weather…”_

_Djimmi felt awkward, listening in on it all. It was a blue-eyed miracle that even from his safe distance, neither had noticed the giant red eavesdropper invading their privacy. The genie shook his head and felt now was the best time to leave. He only managed to move slightly beyond the bon bon cart before he paused as an idea hit._

_“May the Great Djimmi purchase one?” He asked the young woman. She actually seemed pleasantly surprised to see him this time as she nodded. He made sure to leave the candy in one of the free spots within Red’s trunk when the kid wasn’t looking._

_\-----_

_It would take some time to really feel like he was just another face to the crowd instead of an exotic settler. The following morning greeted him with curious sounds whispering outside his door. Djimmi had stirred in his lamp when the collective hushings eventually slipped into a full blown argument outside, and he completely conjured himself out of it in order to go and peel the opening back. Almost instantly all voices stopped as at least eighteen pairs of eyes from various headed folk oggled at him timidly._

_“Told you.” A turtle in a bowler hat mumbled to his rabbit girlfriend._

_Unsettled, Djimmi managed a light smile. It seemed his dashing good looks had really fired up the rumor mill. Polite as ever, he sank into a gentle bow while tipping his turban to the curious locals. Almost immediately they rapid shot questions his way, asking for magic tricks or where he came from and if he was one of those traveling fortune tellers that occasionally stopped by. He humored them with more magic tricks involving smoke creatures birthed by the puffs from his pipe and expert flicks of his wrists conjuring forth tarot cards; he even levitated a glowing crystal ball. Innocent as they were, the visitors ate it all up with whoops of glee, rapid applause and twinkling glints to their eyes. In the basking glow of the morning sun, Djimmi sent forth his canopic cats to play with his newly found friends, and provided others with fresh apples for his living scimitars to whittle away with their teeth. True to his expectations, it didn’t take long at all for his presentations to attract even more eyes upon him. There must have been easily 50 heads bobbing about to get better looks at him._

_He indulged him. As he drifted back into the shadows of his new home, his new followers followed with most reluctantly staying outside when the space became too stuffed. It was in there that he regaled them with stories of ancient times and forgotten figures, of distant lands swallowed by endless sands. He told stories of princes and bandits, of sphinxes and crocodiles with golden teeth. Djimmi spoke of the formations of stars and what their directions meant, and how if one listened closely they could hear the fortunes of fate speaking to them among the gentle winds. His stories carried with him a timeless feel that entranced his listeners; it was nightfall when they finally felt the urge to leave his camp of wonders._

_Djimmi saw them off while he lingered in the entryway one more time. A feeling of warm fullness was settling in his stomach from the feeling that he had found a spot where he could live free and yet so very desired. A simple little boardwalk had become his place of destiny._

_His dreaming smile slowly fell, as one lingering figure remained in his vision. Standing like a rock among crashing waves was Red, unfazed by the exodus of awestruck admirers that were walking against him. He had his arms crossed and his eyes ablaze with a wounded fury Djimmi hadn’t seen in years. He waited until they had breathing space between them and the cries of gulls became the prevailing noises in the night before he stomped forward._

_“I don’t know what you are getting at!” He barked into the quiet night with a sudden shaking anger and threw the bon bon he had been clutching in his hand; it bounced harmlessly off of the genie’s chest. Djimmi had hardly any time to react to it before he was snapped at again._

_“First you come and steal my crowd and then my act! Then you follow me and leave tricks in my trunk? What is wrong with you?!” The lad planted his hands on Djimmi’s stomach, trying and failing to push him back. “You got me into trouble with my father! You made me look like a fool in front of him when he saw that in my box!” He accused with no signs of stopping, and Djimmi had no choice but to silently take the brunt. He was pushed at again, with the result being the same as the last: it could have been a tickle from the power disparity between them. His pout had fallen into a deep frown while his own cheeks darkened in a sickening flush._

_“The Great Djimmi only wished to help-”_

_“I don’t care who you are!” Red spat back. Djimmi saw the beginnings of tears starting to well up in his eyes. “You could be the king of the islands for all I care!” He pushed again for a third time, but slumped halfway through the push. Djimmi had no idea whether to let him be or comfort with a hug. He reluctantly chose the first. His chest held no beating heart within it as he was a being of magic than of flesh, but the genie was thankful for that; the poor kid would have otherwise felt its ghost racing._

_Red’s shallow breathing overwhelmed his ears in the tense silence between them. After exhausting himself in his outburst, the young man let go and took a few steps back. He was shaking like a cornered animal, frightened yet biting whatever he could get ahold off. He shook a finger at the red magician while licking his lips._

_“You made me look like a clown in front of him.”_

_Djimmi exhaled quietly, picking his words wisely._

_“Were you not playing like one yesterday?”_

_Slang was lost to him. In his ancient, innocent mind, it was the gospel truth. It simply hadn’t occurred to him that what he had just asked could also be woven to become an insult, which only deepened his confusions further when he saw the lad’s gaze harden even more. Fortunately the budding salesman shut his mouth before his emotions got the best of him. He pointed again while shaking, bristling and yet uncertain. Finally, his words came again._

_“Just...leave me alone! Before you make everything worse.” The fight in his voice was dying when he reached the last word. He turned his back to Djimmi and started to walk away, but paused for a brief moment. His chest heaved slowly as he took in a more collected breath and exhaled it slowly. Djimmi was expecting him to speak, but instead he was treated to watching in uncomfortable silence as the young man resumed his exit. A strange impulse fired up within him at his own memories of his recent adventures, so he extended a hand as if by willpower alone he could draw the kid back._

_“I can help you.”_

_Free or not, he was still a genie. Granting wishes was as much a need to him as sleeping._

_“I can help.” He said again, weaker in voice. Even just seeing the back half of the human, Djimmi could tell that he had struck yet another chord. Red turned his head, and they stared at each other once again. This time he felt like the cornered animal._

_“Don’t. I don’t need help.” Red made a gesture with his hand where he was clawing at the air, desperate to get his words out without spilling too much. He inhaled again and pursed his lips, feeling as sour as the expression he was making. “I...am doing this on my own. And I am not going to be treated like an idiot child anymore.” There was a soft sparkle to his eyes again, but he rubbed it away violently as he finally picked up his pace. “Leave me alone, your Greatness.”_

_Djimmi was wringing one of his bracers around his wrist as he found himself quickly and truly alone for the first time that day, with only the distant cries of the night gulls to keep him company._

\---

It was the hardest beginning, but through the worst of times often came the best. But he couldn’t think about them now, not after what he saw at the soda stand.

Djimmi was staring at the ceiling of his tent while he silently clawed at the silk of his imported sheets. Sleep was futile tonight. Every time he closed his eyes he saw visages of the stalwart young man who stood up to him, but every time he glanced over he found the back of the same man’s head in all of it’s now-painted glory. Red had been correct in achieving his goal. 

But had it been worth it?

Beppi always curled up beside him when they shared a bed, kneading and forceful like the ornery little kitten that he was. Tonight he delegated the entire eastern half of Djimmi's water bed to himself and had bristled every time he felt his partner’s touch seeking him out. Djimmi reluctantly had to give up after a certain amount of attempts.

He could tell that Beppi wasn’t asleep. His chest was rising and pushing out air in too shallow of breaths to be considered, but he didn’t push it. They both knew that nothing good would come out of it. Instead, he had no choice but to lay there, chained to his own emotions and forced to witness the same scene again and again behind his eyes as his mouth grew dry and his fingers restless. It was clear as crystal, remembering seeing Beppi holding her hand as Bon Bon leaned in close to whisper something. How they both looked frightened and scandalized as they saw him collectively at the same time, and of their stiff reluctance to even bid each other adieu or even he the time of day. For the first time in years, Beppi had grown timid around him. For the rest of the day he remained hopping out of his own partner’s grip, making excuses to be alone or struggling to wiggle his way out of embraces.

First there came cries to have some breathing room. Then came frantic snapping when pressured to tell what was her deal. He refused to indulge in what Bon Bon had told him. He had refused to answer why holding her hand had upset Djimmi so much.

Remembering their own first meeting made the genie feel even more miserable. Frightened, even. He was frightened that the one longing glance he caught Red sending her way all those years ago actually had meant something.

Stewing on everything more would just make him feel even more miserable. Djimmi had experience with meditating; his mind had perfected nomadic wandering. He closed his eyes and took a few minutes to silence his breathing and movements to just...listen. Perhaps if he distracted himself long enough, he could listen to the whisperings again and hope the universe could unweave these sticky, uncomfortable secrets to him. He tried, but couldn’t focus when he felt the rolling movement to his left starting to rock him. Djimmi feigned sleep as he felt the tremor spots where Beppi’s knees had dug into the active mattress, and he employed all of his willpower to not twitch his brows or pout his lip when warm gloves and a warmer suit began to push down onto his belly.

A few minutes felt like an eternity to his paranoid mind, and they hurt even more upon revelation of what was happening: Beppi only crawled on him when he wanted to talk, and in any previous night he would indulge him with a sleepy smile and listen to his worries. When sleep became too hard, the clown would just sit upon him like a personal throne and titter away his worries or frustrations as his companion would rub his back with those big old mitts and he’d hear soft chuckles of assurance whenever the pets would become too sensual. Tonight wasn’t one of those nights, and Djimmi could feel it paining the clown as well. But, Djimmi was dutiful, and he slowly opened his eyes.

The first thing he saw in the dark were two glittering golden eyes, watching him with meek hesitation. Beppi had crossed his legs as if the genie’s stomach were a cushion, and his hands were splayed and kneading into his chest like the soft pads of a kitten. His frown was heavy tonight, and it broke the ancient’s phantom heart.

“Can you tell me what is going on?” The genie rumbled softly. He raised a hand up to fondly stroke along the clown’s white cheek despite his heartbreak. Beppi lowered his head into it as a soft meep escaped him.

“It isn’t what it looks like.” The severity of seriousness in the jester’s tone was frightening. It was deep and slow, so very unlike the high toned squeals and bubbly laughter he was so used to every day. Beppi sucked in a breath and continued. “It isn’t! It...it isn’t…” He looked down at Djimmi with a pleading softness to his wild gaze, hoping he’d understand. Clearly, he wasn’t at liberty to tell the whole story.

Djimmi had no choice but to accept it. He loved this creature too much to fight him.  
He nodded, defeated while rumbling out a weak “I know”, again and again while he brought the sun to his cavern back in for a warm embrace. He stroked along the clown’s back while kissing his forehead, finding no joy tonight in the tickling of those crazy eyebrows but keeping a silent company regardless.

He didn’t know. But he hoped that by the dawn’s early light he’d be respected enough to gain more answers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a writing blog where I post drabbles, musings and even just silly things I come across online. Feel free to check it out. :)
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> [Ta-Da!](https://socks-on-parade.tumblr.com/)


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